Wanghua

Wanghua

Deng Anqing

Yilin Press

October 2022

56.00 （CNY）

Deng Anqing

Writer Deng Anqing， has had works translated into many languages such as English， Italian， Spanish， and Danish.

Graduate Zhang Yunsong finally gets a copywriting job in an advertising agency， but the unfamiliar and complicated workplace rules and the sudden economic pressure that falls on him make him increasingly depressed. That is until he meets Zhao Juan， a girl who is forced to stay in the town due to family pressure， on a business trip to a small town called Wanghua. Two young people with the same desire to escape are pleasantly surprised by their similarities， and they get closer and closer through hesitation and trial， only to find that a barrier lies between them.

The weather is getting hotter by the day. Walking from the cement square to the factory site， she sweats incessantly. Don’t care about it， walk. Pass the power workshop， the maintenance workshop to the raw material warehouse， and finally， the cellar room， the lowest part of the site. Too tired to walk anymore， she crouches by the deep ditch side of the plant. The small Kumai by the ditch blooms with a round yellow flower， and the water draining from the cellar room flows into the ditch. When she was a child， she was afraid to walk here for fear that she might accidentally fall in. After all these years， the ditch still looks very deep， and the granules in the cement are exposed. She looks up and around. The gray concrete walls on both sides of the road are high up， and the drainage openings on the roof have sprouted grass， which is pressed by the floating wind. She looks and looks， her head sore from the tilting， but she dares not look down. Someone comes out of the workshop; she hurriedly gets up and walks forward.

Fermentation and cellar sealing workshop. Koji-making workshop. Bottle storage. Bottle washing room. Filling room. Product storage. Packing workshop. Maintenance workshop. She will never be able to make sense of these complex processes and the rules of the workshop layout. She doesn’t understand. Nor does she need to understand. Never before had she done a complete walk through the factory site until Zhang Yunsong came. It’s hard to imagine these people staying in the same place year after year repeating the same actions. Zhang Yunsong had spoke. She had listened to him forgivingly and sympathetically. He is an outsider; he doesn’t understand life here. She thought then. But at the same time， she somehow felt offended. If she married Wen Lei， one of them doing finance， the other doing administration， just like most people in this winery， and spent her whole life in this place that couldn’t be more familiar， what’s not to be satisfied with？ Mom would be satisfied， Sister Qin would be satisfied， and everyone would be satisfied. It seems that things are meant to be that way， slipping smoothly along the track of life without incident. She can think of no reason to deny this. Yet she is annoyed and unresigned. She was held here in a death grip. If she could leave Wanghua， what kind of life would she be living now？ Maybe living in the same dread of unemployment as Zhang Yongsong， fearing being fired in a moment. Maybe taking that clerical job in the provincial capital and getting married to her boyfriend from college. Maybe. It’s all， maybe.

Now she feels lost in the aisles wedged into these gray cramped factory buildings. In the distance， she sees the boiler room， coal piled up in a mountain by the door. She sees her father， bare-chested， shoveling coal into the boiler repeatedly， his back all black and dirty. She dares not to look any further and runs ahead when they are not looking. Once again， she arrives at the cement square. Zhang Ying is standing at the copy room door and waving to her until she approaches， then says， “Why Mrs. Wen， how come you still have the leisure to hang out in such heat？” Zhao Juan immediately turns around and starts to leave， and Zhang Ying pulls her back， “Okay， okay， my bad. No more jokes about you.” That said， she looks closer at Juan’s face， “Are you crying？” Zhao Juan mumbles， “What？ No.” Zhang Ying drags her into the copy room and then hands her a wet tissue， “It’s too obvious. Everyone can tell.” Zhao Juan covers her eyes with the wet tissue， and tears can’t stop gushing out. Zhang Ying hands another wet tissue over， “Sister Qin has gone too far！ How could she do that？” Then she closes the door， leans over， and hugs Zhao Juan， “Don’t you be afraid. Just follow your own wishes.” Zhao Juan feels her heart relieve a bit as the tears run down her cheeks. She leans her elbow on the desk， faces in hand， staring blankly， “I don’t know what to do.” And tears come up once again with the words. Zhang Ying says， “The next two days are off anyway， why don’t you go downtown and relax， get away with these guys.” Zhao Juan nods， “I’m buying the tickets right now.” Zhang Ying stops her again， “Look how you cried！ You can’t go out like this.” So she sits down again， and Zhang Ying takes a paper fan to fan her. A few sparrows are hopping around the square. The grain depot truck just drove by and spilled some grains. Zhang Ying’s paper fan smells like sandalwood， and Zhao Juan asks， “Where did you get it？” Zhang Ying laughs， “My father’s. I stole it.” Outside the window， a person is coming from afar， getting closer and closer. Zhao Juan suddenly stands up， Zhang Ying asks what’s the matter， but Wen Lei is already in the room holding some reports. Zhang Ying rises too and receives the reports in Wen Lei’s hand， “How many copies do you want？” Wen Lei glances at Zhao Juan， saying， “One copy is fine.” The copy machine squeaks， and Zhao Juan says， “Zhang Ying， I’m going upstairs.” Zhang Ying replies with an “Okay.” She walks a few steps and almost runs into Wen Lei. She moves to the side， and Wen Lei hurriedly gets out of the way while asking her in a low voice， “What’s wrong with your eyes？” Zhang Ying turns her head over and asks loudly， “Just these papers？” Wen Lei nods his head， saying yes. Zhao Juan takes the opportunity to stagger out the door and runs to the second floor in one go. Manager Wang has gone somewhere else in the office， and the cup of tea is no longer hot. The brain is clouded. She can not meet other people， being afraid that she will suddenly lose control and do something inappropriate. The cell phone rang for a text， which was from Wen Lei. “Zhang Ying told me what happened. I’m so sorry， I will ask my aunt to stop talking about it.” Zhao Juan reads it but doesn’t know how to reply. She somewhat blames Zhang Ying for being such a big mouth; also， she thinks that Wen Lei has done nothing wrong and she shouldn’t be so cold to him. Nothing is going well， and she screws everything up.